Operation: Mindcrime
by Sarcastic Avenger
Summary: Amidst the turmoil of New York inner city streets, a young junkie finds himself interred in a mental ward, accused of horrific crimes. Not knowing whether he's alive and dreaming or dead and remembering, young Sasuke fights to understand it all. SasuSaku
1. Prologue: I Remember Now

**Operation: Mindcrime**

**Summary: **Amidst the turmoil of New York's inner city streets, a young junkie finds himself interred in a mental ward, accused of horrific crimes. Not knowing whether he's alive and dreaming or dead and remembering, young Sasuke fights to understand how it all started, and how he wound up here, lost and alone forever.

**Prologue: I Remember Now...**

**AN: **This story is a loose fusion between Naruto and the Queensrÿche concept album _Operation: Mindcrime_. This is a work of fiction that just so happens to have a disturbing resemblance to reality. All publicly recognized properties in this work are property of their respective owners, and no copyright infringement is intended.

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"Dr. Davis, telephone please. Dr. Davis, telephone please," rang out over the loudspeaker amidst the cacophony of the busy hospital floor. Nurses and doctors scurried about, busy worker bees in the crowded halls of this hall of healing.

One nurse among the many marched through the confusion towards a quieter and more secluded wing of the hospital. The blue-eyed blond nurse whistled a quiet tune while she walked, a sweet melody in time with the sharp _tap tap _of her low heel shoes on the hard tile floor. With each step, her blond pony-tail bobbed merrily. "Dr. Blair, Dr. Blair, Dr. J. Hamilton, Dr. J. Hamilton" came over the PA, but she paid it no heed. She had more important, more personal duties to perform. Swishing a long forelock of hair out of her face, she opened a door to a dark, cold room.

In the room, a single patient lay in bed, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. It was hard to tell in the low twilight, but he was twitching uncomfortably in his bed. The black haired, fair skinned young man smelled of cold, putrid sweat. "_Detoxing apparently..._" the nurse mused.

The sole light in the room came from a small television, tuned to the local broadcast channel. The newscaster spoke with a clear, educated Manhattan accent: "... the Soviets. In other news, the bizarre murders of political and religious leaders that have shocked the city over the last few months seem to have ended as suddenly as they began. No terror groups have claimed responsibility for the slayings, but police have a suspect in custody under observation at a state hospital. His indenity is being with held pending futher investigation. Sports and weather next—_click_"

As the news unfolded from the TV, the young nurse chastised the barely conscious patient: "It's ten minutes past curfiew, why are you still up? Hello? Hello!? Hn, perhaps you need another shot." She walked over to the bedside, and inserted a readied syringe into the IV line in his arm. She smiled with impish malice at the line of track marks on his arm. "That should do it," she remarked, as the man shifted, feeling the methadone burn its way up his arm. He grunted and twisted in the bed as the nurse walked over to the TV and shut it off with a sharp _click_ of the nob. She walked to the door, and swiftly stepped past the threshold before stopping a moment. She peered around the corner of the door for just a moment to whisper "Sweet dreams, you bastard!" With that final epitaph, she left the young junkie to wallow in silence.

Slowly but surely, the small tremors in the junkie's body stopped. He tense muscles relaxed, and he sank back into his pillows, staring up at the cracked and nicotine stained ceiling tiles. His eyes fluttered open as the methadone took the edge of his endorphin withdrawals, but still left him in enough pain to be lucid. He stared blankly for a few moments, his mind slowly escaping the fog of heroin withdrawal.

"I remember now," he muttered to himself, "I remember how it started... I can't remember yesterday... I just remember doing... what they told me..." A flood of memories came rushing back, and he shot up in bed. His white-knuckle grip on the bed rails slowly started to loosen, but he continued to stare at the mirror across the room from his bead. The look upon the man he saw in the mirror was shame. The simulacrum's bloodshot, mournful eyes bored into the junkie. And here was his apotheosis.

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**Endnotes: **Just a short prologue to pique your interest and get you wondering. I'd love some review action. If I don't get some, I'll start going into withdrawals just like poor Sasuke. And you don't wanna see a grown up and intelligent writer go into _delirium tremuns_. Trust me. :P


	2. Anarchy X

**Operation: Mindcrime**

**Summary: **Amidst the turmoil of New York's inner city streets, a young junkie finds himself interred in a mental ward, accused of horrific crimes. Not knowing whether he's alive and dreaming or dead and remembering, young Sasuke fights to understand how it all started, and how he wound up here, lost and alone forever.

**Anarchy X**

**AN: **And now the story takes off in high-gear! I do have a couple notes for this chapter. First off, this fic is firmly planned to be a SasuSaku romance. Nevertheless, it's going to be a couple chapters before you actually see any of it, as the stage must be set first. Don't worry, I'll make it up to you SasuSaku fans when I get there. And second, some of the rhetoric that is going to be coming up is going to seem quite anviliscious. I'm not writing this to change anyone's point of view, the flavor of the scene is meant to establish the theme of the fic. Well, that's all for notes. Enjoy!

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The crowd on the usually busy sidewalks was a lot thinner this early Autumn morning. The cool air was filled with the din of bustling pedestrians and murmuring growl of passing cars on the street. The fragrance on the wind, which should have been clean and sweet on such a bright and humid day, was instead polluted by the noxious fumes of exhaust and the sick mildew of old brick buildings. The sidewalk too, showed the urban blight clearly; cracked and withered from the trample of thousands of passers-by every day for decades.

The buildings too crumbled under a burden that could be scarcely understood. Old-timers, who'd lived in this ward all their lives, would lament this present state of the community. They'd talk about how when they were young, the apartments and townhouses on the block were all beautiful and new. On the inside, they were clean and well-maintained. Good people lived there, they'd say. They'd talk about how, when they were kids, they could play in the streets without fear of the traffic, how they could go out after dark without fearing danger. They'd reminisce on days spent sitting on the front steps, drinking lemonade and kibbutzing with neighbors all summer afternoon.

Those days were gone forever. Welcome to the new world order. If the old face of the burg was a piece of Eden, the new face was nothing short of a demilitarized zone. The squalor and disarray was the new order of the age. Poverty and hopelessness was its creed. To call this neighborhood a community would be a lie. It was just a collection of individuals fighting in the rat-race of life. No one knew their neighbor, what his passion was, what her hobbies were; if they did know the people living in their apartment complex, they inevitably feared them.

Sasuke Uchiha was no different than the thousands of other faceless victims of the system that lived in the neighborhood. Like them, he'd leave this shithole in a heartbeat if he could. But this place was the only one that would allow him. He hated to admit it, but he was dirt. Worthless scum. Always had been, and always would be.

Sure, he hadn't always lived in such a squalor. His family had been well off in his youth. His father, Fugaku, worked long, hard hours in a dangerous job, but being the captain of the police precinct put food on the table and allowed them a comfortable middle-income life. In all, it was certainly not a bad living for a first generation Japanese immigrant, coming to the United States when he was a mere boy. His two boys, Sasuke and Itachi, certainly had a better life growing up than his.

Life had been good. Itachi was in the police academy, ready to follow in Fugaku's footsteps. And the promise that high school held for Sasuke foretold a bright future. But then everything went wrong. He came home early one day, only to see a horror that he'd never forget: his mother and father, slain execution style, lifeless on the living room floor. And the murderer who stood over their corpses? None other than his older brother Itachi himself.

Just the thought of it made Sasuke's blood burn. He wanted desperate to forget that night, and everything that followed. To forget that Itachi had spared him because he was too pathetic to kill. He spent high school bouncing through foster parents. He'd picked up some nasty habits along the way: petty thievery, some violent thuggish tendencies, and heroin addiction.

Yup, he was a junkie, living in this slum, barely able to support his habit. It was a miracle if he could hold a job for more than a few weeks. But this was his punishment, he reckoned as he walked down the crumbling sidewalk. His punishment for being the pathetic person he truly was.

He tugged his tattered hooded sweatshirt closer to keep out the chilling wind. He continued walking aimlessly, following his feet to wherever they'd take him. Anything but standing still.

As he walked, Sasuke tuned out all the sound: the passing traffic, the chattering blue collar workers walking to the corner, even efforts of the homeless panhandlers, begging for just a bit, enough to spare their fix. He'd love to give them something, but then he wouldn't be able to get _his_ fix.

His path eventually took him towards one of the few remaining parks in this part of the city. Sure, it was as dirty and littered as the rest of the neighborhood, but at least it was a patch of green in the jungle of concrete and steel. He figured he's sit down on the park bench and stew for a bit before going home to continue.

As he got within a few blocks, he noticed some raucous sounds emanating from the park. It sounded like punk rock coming through a badly maintained and tuned PA system. Intrigued, he picked up his pace a bit. The sound became a bit clearer as he got closer. By the time he got to the edge of the park, he could see a fairly large crowd of people in the center of the park, clustered around a hastily put together stage and PA system. On the stage, a local punk band blared out its best chops. Still couldn't make out the words though.

The crowd itself, though, was quite a bit more intriguing. About half of them were waving banners of some sort or another. AntiFa(1) signs bobbed up and down amidst red and black flags. Some posters were emblazoned with garish hammer and sickle symbols or clenched fists.

Sasuke slipped into the edge of the crowd unconsciously. Before he realized it, he was surrounded by angry, exuberant figures, eagerly thrusting a clenched fist skyward on beat with the singer on stage. Hesitantly, he joined in with the crowd. He had no idea what the rally was for, what the banners meant or what the clenched fist salute meant, but he was quickly drawn with the crowd. It just seemed like the thing to do.

The lyrics started to become a bit clearer. In spite of the punk screaming, Sasuke managed to pick up a bit of the chorus by the end. "So comrades, come rally!" the punk on stage crooned, "and the last fight let us face! The Internationale/ Unites the human race!"

The endlessly feeding back PA slowly faded to quiet, and the whole crowd roared in cheering. Sasuke remained quiet, listening and wondering what this was for. The punk who had been singing rubbed the sweat from his brow, and picked up the microphone again. Standing tall and firm, he shouted out at the crowd, "All right brothers, thanks for listening to us! I'm afraid this is the end of our set, but now it's time for the main event, why we all came here! Please welcome my friend and mentor, and the organizer of this action, the one, the only... Dr. X!"

The crowd stood silent, in complete rapture, as a tall, lanky, pale man walked out on stage. Wearing a shirt and tie with dress slacks, he couldn't have stood out more at this rally. Yet, simultaneously, he commanded enormous respect from everyone in the crowd; once raucous and blistering with energy, this man's mere presence had cowed them into silence. He had long, raven hair, and piercing yellow eyes which revealed an almost serpentine intellect. He graciously accepted the microphone from the gray-white haired punk, and turned to the crowd.

"Thank you all for coming here," the serpentine man crooned, "and especially thanks to our comrade Kimmimaro here." He pointed to the gray-haired, tall muscled punk. "Let's give him and his band 'Sound Off Motherfuckers!' a big round of applause!"

The crowd cheered enthusiastically. They shouted, and bellowed and stomped their feet in approval. When they quieted, the serpent Dr. X spoke again. "You're an awesome and committed group, you really are. I'd also like to thank the local branch of AntiFa for helping me organize this rally, and the Wobbly(2) local for securing a permit for us." More cheers followed.

"Let's get down to business, shall we?" he continued, "Some of you here are regulars to our rallies and our protests. Others of you are new faces. This is good. It's a sign that we're moving forward. Let's welcome our new faces here, and begin with the task at hand. We are hear because we seek to give voice to the voiceless, and power to the powerless. We assemble here in solidarity with our comrades the Sandinistas, who like us, have a common struggle. That struggle is the emancipation of the working classes from the tyrants who would oppress them."

His speech started subdued, very calm and intellectual, as he laid out systematically the crimes of the current government against workingmen everywhere. Naming no names, he methodically the root causes that, in his opinion, were the reasons for the current deleterious state of the country.

He spoke at length about each one of them, yet somehow managed to not ramble on into boring excesses. He spoke about deteriorating labor unions, and rising income and wealth inequalities. He segued into deregulation and taxes. As he decried, "nothing but Robin Hood in reverse; robbing the poor to give to the rich".

He moved quickly into rising defense spending. With each passing subject, his passion and his fervor increased. Like the crowd around him, Sasuke slowly became enraptured by his voice, his promise of a better tomorrow and his condemnation of the evils of today. Sasuke didn't know if he believed any of it, but he wanted to hear more.

And so "Dr. X", as he fashioned himself, continued. He spoke about the Contras in Nicaragua, and the illegal use of American taxpayer dollars to finance an illegal and unjust war against the workingmen of Nicaragua and the Sandinista government. By the time he reached the subject of proposed American invasion of Nicaragua, he was practically yelling.

His speech soon reached its crescendo. "And why, you might ask, would our government," he paused for effect, "would our government, here in this so-called land of the free, be spending billions of dollars to finance a war to kill and maim thousands of working class people in Central America? The answer is simple. It all boils down to money. The Sandinistas threaten the investments made by American capitalists. There's no money to be made in a socialist Nicaragua. Democracy only means anything to Uncle Sam if the other nations vote for people that Washington approves. It seems that the people of Nicaragua voided their right to the democracy we laud when they voted the Sandinistas into power, and overthrew the old Washington crony dictatorship."

"And here's the kicker. After they have wrung their countless millions from your sweat, your agony and your life's blood, in a time of war as in a time of peace, they invest these untold millions in the purchase of the favors of broken-down dictators, military strongmen and other parasites and no-accounts. Would they be satisfied to invest their wealth in honest workingmen? To real democrats? Oh, no! They scour the markets of world for vampires who rule by force nothing else, so they may reap the maximum benefits from their capital regardless of consequences!"

He paused a moment, and wiped the seat from his brow. Taking a quick drink from a canteen of water, he continued, in a low calm tone, like a stern father explaining the ways of the world: "These are the gentry who are today wrapped up in the American flag, who shout their claim from the housetops that they are the only patriots, and who have their magnifying glasses in hand, scanning the country for evidence of disloyalty, eager to apply the brand of treason to the men who dare to even whisper their opposition to corporate dictatorship in the United Sates. No wonder Sam Johnson declared that 'patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel.'"

His ire returned quickly, as he moved forward. He spoke slowly, stressing his words: "He must have had this Wall Street gentry in mind, or at least their prototypes, for _in every age_ it has been the _tyrant, the oppressor and the exploiter_ who has wrapped himself in the cloak of patriotism, or religion, _or both_ to deceive and overawe the people."

"Every solitary one of these aristocratic conspirators and _would-be murderers _claims to be an arch-patriot; every one of them insists that the war is being waged to make the world safe for democracy. What humbug! What rot! What false pretense! Wars throughout history _have been waged for conquest_ and plunder. In the Middle Ages when the feudal lords who declared war upon one another. But they themselves did not go to war any more than the modern feudal lords, the barons of Wall Street go to war. The feudal barons of the Middle Ages, the economic predecessors of the capitalists of our day, declared all wars. And their miserable serfs _fought all the battles._ The poor, ignorant serfs had been taught to revere their masters; to believe that when their masters declared war upon one another, it was t_heir patriotic duty_ to fall upon one another and _to cut one another's throats_ for the profit and glory of the lords and barons _who held them in contempt_."

He let his words sink in before continuing. "And that is war in a nutshell. The _master class has always declared the wars_; the subject class _has always_ fought the battles. The master class has had all to gain and nothing to lose, while the subject class has had nothing to gain and all to lose—especially their lives."

"They have always taught and trained you to believe it to be your patriotic duty to go to war and to have yourselves slaughtered at their command. But in all the history of the world you, the people, have never had a voice in declaring war, and strange as it certainly appears, no war by any nation in any age has ever been declared by the people."(3)

"This is why we have gathered here today. We are here to declare in one voice that we will no longer silently obey, that we will not be the puppets of imperialism. The preservation of freedom and justice, and even our very lives, depends on this. Solidarity, brothers and sisters, and thank you for coming!"

As "Dr. X" finished his speech, a torrent of applause and cheering erupted from the crowd. Sasuke felt himself get swept away by this wave, and soon he found himself shouting in approval, raising his clenched fist into the air. He had to know more, he had to find this "Dr. X" person. He also had no idea what he was getting himself into.

* * *

**Endnotes: **I warned you it would be a bit anvilicious. :P Throughout the course of this fic, there will be many things said that you will not agree with. Just remember that the voice of a character is not my voice, and we'll make it through this alright.

1. AntiFa stands for "anti-fascism". It's a loose group of people across the Western world who work to oppose Neo-Nazi groups as well as the currents of racism, nationalism, antisemitism, sexism and homophobia that they see ass dangerously associated with fascism.

2. "Wobbly" is a slang term for the IWW (Industrial Workers of the World), a syndicalist union that is associated with various left-wing causes in the US.

3. The quoted above has been borrowed, with some alterations, from a speech delivered by Eugene Debs in Canton, Ohio, to oppose the US involvement in WWI.


	3. Revolution Calling

**Operation: Mindcrime**

**Summary: **Amidst the turmoil of New York's inner city streets, a young junkie finds himself interred in a mental ward, accused of horrific crimes. Not knowing whether he's alive and dreaming or dead and remembering, young Sasuke fights to understand how it all started, and how he wound up here, lost and alone forever.

**Revolution Calling**

* * *

**AN:** News of my death has been greatly exaggerated. I'd also like to remind my readers that just because two people have sex in a story, doesn't mean they'll be in anyway romantically involved. Have fun, this fic was rated "M" for a reason.

Finding "Dr. X" was no easy task. As far as Sasuke could tell, the man didn't stay too long in anyone place. Whether it was due to paranoia or a busy schedule, he wasn't sure. His first lead sent him to a pub, the Four Winds Bar, about six blocks away from the park where he had first chanced upon Dr. X. It was seedy, and a bit run-down, but a solidly working class bar nonetheless, and it carried itself with a dignity that wasn't common in this burned out burg. A few conversations in the smoky bar with the equally smoky bartender and clientèle gave him a few more leads. One of the waitresses seemed to recognize "Dr. X," from the description Sasuke gave her. He had been having drinks with a few of his associates, and apparently had a meeting with one of the bar's regulars, a young teamster named Anko.

He'd found people with less, so it'd have to do. It had been three days since the fateful run-in with Dr. X and his crew, and Sasuke was itching to move forward. He'd get his chance tonight though. Anko was due to be back at the Four Winds tonight, and he'd get his chance to get some more information. Sasuke stepped out into the pouring rain, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. The cold, wet air filled his lungs as he walked briskly down the crumbling sidewalk. As he walked, he pored over the details of the "case" in his head. Boy would his father be proud now.

"_Anko; she's a __Asian, probably in her late 20s to early 30s. About 5'6", athletically built. She's apparently a member of the Teamsters local. Hmm, organized labor and Dr. X, how do they fit?_" Sasuke lit up a cigarette, taking advantage of the shelter of a storefront awning. He took a long draw off the unfiltered cigarette as he marched on. Some big burning questions came up first: was Anko a member of Dr. X's group? If so, what's the relationship? If not, is he trying to recruit her? Or are they old acquaintances? Perhaps both.

Sasuke hoped this wouldn't be dangerous, but his gut feeling told him that there was some danger inherent in this group. They might be guarded. After all, they styled themselves as revolutionaries. Not a good way to make friends. "_Best to stay on my guard, and not doing anything to provoke a reaction_," he mused as he turned the corner to come into view to the bar.

His timing was impeccable; he could see Anko clearly entering the front of the pub. The purple-dyed hair and trench coat were unmistakable. "_Good, she's alone_," he thought, breathing a sigh of relief, "_At the very least, she's not coming here with someone. Less likely to have to deal with a boyfriend. Better act fast anyway. She's bound to be popular, and it's a Friday night. I need to find out what I can before she gets too intoxicated or winds up going home with someone_."

Sasuke took one last draw from the cigarette before flicking it into the gutter. He coughed a bit as he exhaled, and then took the plunge, entering the Four Winds Bar. The bar was pleasantly warm as he entered, though the oily smoke haze that hung in the air bit at his eyes and nose. When it came to smoking, he was definitely a lightweight. A quick scan of the room, and he located Anko, sitting on the end of the bar alone, slowly nursing what looked like a light beer. "_Good, not likely to be waiting for __someone either. Just play it cool as ice Sasuke._"

He sat down a few seats away from Anko. The bar wasn't quite full yet, so he still had a good line of sight on her. However, with the drunken rowdiness at the pool tables behind him, hearing anything would be a miracle. He placed a few one dollar bills on the bar, and admired the stained oak and polished finish of the bar while he waited for the bartender. The wait wasn't long. After ordering a cheap light beer, he began drinking slowly. Now was the real waiting game; wait for the young lady to finish her drink, and then casually walk over and offer to buy her another. The same scene had played out in this bar alone a hundred times every night, all the way back to opening night. Hopefully the old mating game wouldn't be an unwelcome advance for Anko.

She certainly was attractive, which would only ad another complication. Some cheap drunk would be bound to make a pass at her soon, but all Sasuke could really do is hope she finished her beer quickly.

At least the beer was okay. Cold, clear, with a slight bite of hops at the back-end. Sasuke would have probably preferred something a bit more bitter, but this was cheap and not likely to dull his senses. Anko, for her part, was taking her sweet time drinking her first beer of the night, as if she were savoring the cool, refreshing barley taste after a long, hard day at work. Finally though, she finished, setting the bottle on the lip of the bar for another round. Sasuke casually walked over, and tried to play it smooth.

He came off aloof and detached, which was better than most would, but still definitely underpar. "So, could I buy you another drink?" he asked, trying his best not to sound too curt with her.

Sizing him up in an instant, Anko grinned impishly. The first haul of the night wasn't bad looking at all. A bit pale, but with sharp, elfin features, and a toned body. "Sure," she said, offering him the stool next to hers.

Great success. "So, what's your poison?" he asked as he beckoned the bar tender.

Anko pulled his stool a bit closer to her foot. As she rubbed the bare skin of her leg against his, she said, "Another beer would be great. My name is Anko, by the way. What's yours?"

"Sasuke," he replied. After order two more beers, and entertaining her small talk for a bit, he finally got around to springing his pre-arranged questions at her. "So, Anko...I hear you know a guy who goes by the name of 'Dr. X.'"

She was briefly puzzled. However, the gears shifted quickly enough, and a flash of recognition poured over her. "Ah, so that's what he's going by these days." She was a bit crestfallen though, since this rendezvous turned out to be business and not play. Her tone changed noticeably by the next sentence. "You're not the first person to come around looking for Orochimaru. So I guess you're wondering about getting in with his group, and not taking me home tonight."

"Well...I wouldn't say that really. I mean, you are really attractive and you are quite funny, er, I mean fun to be around," Sasuke said, backpedaling. Anko didn't look like a woman he wanted to get cross, and that would also jeopardize the very reason he sought her ought.

Anko knew the tables had turned. This kid was an amateur, and it pretty much ruled him out on being a cop or a paid informant. The NYPD or the FBI paid far too well for anything less than the sleekest professionalism. So, like a cat playing with a mouse, she toyed with him a bit more. "Are you sure you aren't just saying that to keep me from walking off?" she asked, playing passive-aggressive. His reaction was priceless. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she continued, "Relax kid, I'm just playing with you. I know Orochimaru quite well, and I'd be happy to help you get involved with the struggle."

Sasuke breathed a sigh of relief. "_This means she's definitely an ally of his, connected through unions. Still, best confirm_." Regaining his composure, he continued, "Thanks, Anko. So... how do you know him anyway?"

"Well, I used to be a student of his, back before he went underground. He used to a professor of political science at Berkeley, which was where I met him. I joined his group. Small political action group, mostly on labor and diversity issues, but also anti-war activism. Part of the whole Seventies scene really. But, a few too many run-ins with the police, and suddenly we find ourselves shit-canned."

Sasuke arched an eyebrow in curiosity. After a few sips from her beer, she continued. "Yeah, the complaints ran-up the ladder. Suddenly he finds himself fired from his post, and a bunch of us students were expelled from the university. Some of us quit, but the rest of us were lifers by then anyway. You know what they say, 'The revolution will not be televised', or something like that."

Sasuke didn't know what to think. It sounded like Orochimaru was into some pretty deep stuff. And though Sasuke sympathized, he didn't know if he was really down with the radical left-wing politics. Sure, there were a lot of things wrong in the world, but he didn't know if this was the answer. "Well, sounds like some heavy stuff. I mean, I want to get involved, but this talk of 'going underground' just makes me—hey, is that your hand on my thigh?"

Anko leaned in a bit closer. "Hon, just because this is business doesn't mean it can't be pleasurable as well." After another swig, she continued, "Sure, it's dangerous stuff. But you wouldn't be talking to me if you didn't think something needed to change in this country. You heard him speak, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I was really intrigued," he said nervously. Anko had seriously put him off guard, and unlike the female admirers he'd long ignored in high school, he had no choice but to deal with Anko head on. It was unnerving, facing a woman who didn't just cheerlead and hope that he'd notice her; Anko knew what she wanted and knew how to get it. "Still, I need to be certain of a number of things. The things he talked about, the corruption and violence inherent in the system, all speak to me deeply. But I need to be sure that if I sign on, I can get some justice for my family."

He'd let out a little bit too much. But no matter, this ultimately was the reason why he was here, wasn't it? His father and mother were killed because of a corrupt business deal within the department; because Fugaku knew too much about some very powerful people. The story was hush-hush, but that was the undeniable truth.

"You want to be sure that a proletarian revolution and communism is the way to go?" She replied matter-of-factly.

"Not-so-loud!" he hissed. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, "But yeah, that's what I'm getting at. We're fighting the Soviets over the same thing right now, so I just don't know."

"Well, I can't convince you of that. I can arrange a meeting with Orochimaru, and he should be able to clear things up for you? That good?"

"Yeah, that's good,"

"So, Sasuke, your place or my place?"

Sasuke nearly choked on his beer. "I'm sorry?" he coughed.

"It's not a very difficult question, tiger. I'm not asking you to marry me, I'm just asking if you'd like to sleep with me," Anko said, slightly cross.

It was time for another plunge. There was no way around it. "Well, your place I guess. Mine is a bit of a dump."

* * *

The rain had slowed by the time they got to Anko's place. Anko led Sasuke into her flat, placing a few kisses on his lips as they went. She led him into her bed room, pulling of his shirt and exposing his muscled chest. After running a few fingers down his abs, gently caressing his smooth skin, she shoved him onto her bed roughly.

It was thrilling, the kind of fun he hadn't had in a while. Anko seductively slid off her silken shirt, tossing it aside before looming over Sasuke like a predator. He caressed her skin, from taught muscles of her shoulders down to the small of her back, before pulling her closer to capture her in a kiss. The smooth rubbing of skin on skin, like fire and lightning, warmed their cold bodies. Anko tried to pull away from the kiss, but he held her firmly in place.

"I like the aggression..." she whispered into his ear, before softly biting his ear lobe. Sasuke groaned with pleasure as she purred in his ear.

"That's a good trick," he said, smiling.

"I learned it in the Girl Scouts," she whispered.

Sasuke fought the urge to laugh. Letting himself have fun was hard, and he didn't always succeed. But he gave his effort. Anko quickly finished disrobing before pulling off Sasuke's pants. His member was already hard and ready for action, and Anko caressed it gently with her libs, as she softly kneaded his balls.

She waited until he was almost begging before sliding the tip of his cock into her mouth. Sucking slightly, she massaged the head of his cock with her tongue. Soon, she started stroking his shaft with her free hand, building, slowly increasing the tempo of her motions. Finally he came, groaning loudly and balling up his fist in her hair, before, spurting a long stream of semen into her mouth. She swallowed, then licked the remnants of his seed from his member and her lips.

Sasuke was out of breath, panting with mirth as Anko slid up next to him, spooning up next to his naked form. "Ugh, I'm going to need a few minutes before we continue," he gasped.

She chuckled, and propped her self up on an elbow. "Well, if you need a minute, I suppose we can talk."

He nodded silently, turning to face her. "Well, what do you want to talk about."

"I still can't help but wonder if you're ready to go through with this," she said nonchalantly.

Sasuke bristled. "What do you mean by that," he said, more than a touch annoyed.

"Revolution isn't a game of sunshines and rainbows. If you join up with Orochimaru on this, you can't be a half-hearted revolutionary. You're going to be in it a for the long-haul. And until we succeed, and the vanguard party seizes power for the working-classes, you can't quit, and you can't shrink from your duty. You've got to lay your life on the line for the proletarian revolution." She stated this all matter-of-factly, as though she learned it in Sunday School.

Sasuke sighed. This leftist lingo would take some getting used to. "I'm ready to commit myself to this, Anko. I'm ready to die for the cause, if necessary."

"That's wonderful Sasuke, but are you ready to kill?" she deadpanned.

That gave him pause. But he was still determined; the corruption in the system needed to be undone, there had to be some sort of new beginning, and these people were the only ones who offered him a way to get there. He wouldn't just get revenge on Itachi—he'd destroy the entire edifice that created him. Finally, he said, "I've always been pretty flexible. I mean, for a price, I'll do just about anything, except pull the trigger. I need a pretty good cause for that. And this is a pretty good cause. We need a new kind of vision. I've always felt that, I just didn't know what it was we needed. But when I saw Orochimaru speak about the pervasive problems in our system, and the corporate-whores and power-mad politicians, I just felt that I had finally seen what it was. He's given us a way out, and I want to join his revolution."

Anko laughed again, grinning like a demon at Sasuke. "Oh kid, you remind me so much of myself. But you still have a lot to learn." She added with a gigle, "About sex as well as Marxism-Leninism,"

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean!"

"Oh never mind. I can teach you to be a better fuck, but I'm not the best person to learn about revolution. But that's why you need to see Orochimaru, am I right?"

He nodded silently.

"I'm surprised you're not turned off to us. I mean, we're supposed to be the official enemy."

"I used to believe that too, Anko. I used to think that in spite of all the corruption and power-mongering, only our way was right. But now, I mean, I guess I can't keep ignoring it anymore. It's the dollar the rules in America, not the people. Gotta make a million, doesn't matter who dies. So I can't buy that bullshit they keep trying to sell us about the 'communist plan'. If communists are against this crap, then I guess I'm with the communists."

Anko deftly slithered on top of Sasuke, kissing him furiously. When they finally paused for air, Anko whispered, "I'm convinced you can go through with this. And it's always good to have another comrade, especially in these days. Fuck, who can you trust when everyone's a crook?"

Sasuke answered by planting a string of small bites on her neck. Anko smiled, brushing her lips over the firm muscles of his chest. After a few moments of tickling his nipple with her tongue (and Sasuke fighting off the fits of laughter), Anko pinned his arms above his head, and captured him into a deep kiss.

Then she noticed the track marks on his arm. She sat up immediately on his chest, furious at him, as well as herself for not noticing. "What the fuck Sasuke, you're a junkie," she shouted, not caring about waking the neighbors.

"Hey, hey, what I do on my own time isn't any of your concern," he barked back.

"If I'm fucking you, it is! Do you know what kinds of shit you can catch doing that?"

"Do you think I'm that stupid?" he shouted, indignant. "I don't share needles with anyone, and I only score medical morphine or the better heroin. I'm not going to catch something, and I'm certainly not going to give it to you. But, if you're concerned, I have condoms in my wallet."

Her short fuse was snuffed out, but still smoldering. "Still, Sasuke, god damn...that's a really stupid, self-destructive habit. Living your life waiting for the next fix is shit. I've gone down that road before. But I got out. You should too, while you have the chance."

Sasuke calmed down as well. "I appreciate your concern, Anko, but I've only just met you. I can look after myself."

"I wasn't planning on going any further without a condom anyway," Anko said, "And while it's nice of you to offer, I have plenty of my own." She reached over to the bedside drawer, and pulled out one of the small plastic packages. "If you're good, I'll put it on for you," she srmirked.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Reviews are always appreciated.


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